


The Trials of Gift-Giving

by GealachGirl



Series: Holiday/winter "ficlets" 2018-19 [3]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Brad's into it for one reason, Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Secret Santa, gift-giving, universe-typical swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: Secret Santa was designed to level the gift-giving playing field. It didn't happen in Brad's favor, and he wants to change that.





	The Trials of Gift-Giving

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: our friends have been hosting a secret Santa for years but I just got your name for the first time and I finally feel comfortable giving you this thing I bought for you two years ago
> 
> Basically, I got bored, missed writing on deadline like I haven’t been doing it every day for four months, and don’t really understand the concept of “taking a break,” so I challenged myself to write a bunch of fics based on [these prompts]() both before the end of the year and before break ends. This is the result of the first round. I tried to get them done before Christmas, but I started on the 20th, so I only got close.  
> I also have a list of more general winter-themed prompts that I’m going to hammer out before next semester starts and I have deadlines for papers and articles every day again.  
> Enjoy!

Brad didn’t know how it had started, but he had a suspicion Poke was responsible, at least for the idea.

Now, the asshole was holding out a Santa hat with scraps of paper in it, and Brad dug around for a name. It was the first of December and everyone had finally gotten back from various Thanksgiving celebrations, so now it was time for the first of many parties this month and the drawing of names.

They’d been doing this Secret Santa thing for three years now, and Brad had yet to draw a name he knew well enough to buy for.

When Poke moved on, he unfolded his strip of paper and grimaced. It wasn’t going to happen this year, either.

***

“This way everyone gets a gift and no one’s put out. It’s the most egalitarian way, Brad,” Nate told him, like Brad didn’t recognize or appreciate that. Secret Santa just made it awkward to give the gifts you wanted to give.

“I’m Jewish and should be exempt from all Christmas celebrations,” he protested.

“You’re an atheist and you’re non-practicing,” Nate said. “This doesn’t have to be complicated or involved. Draw a name, buy a present. You don’t even have to put a lot of thought into it.”

“Gee thanks.” Nate had drawn Brad’s name last year, and he knew for a fact that the motorcycle toolbox hadn’t been an afterthought. Nate didn’t see or treat people like that. He had to wonder what made Nate think Brad did.

“I’m just saying that you’re overthinking it.”

Nate had a point, but Brad still hated it. If he was going to give a gift, he wanted it to mean something, and he needed to know the person before that happened.

“Who did you get? Do you have ideas?”

“It’s _Secret_ Santa, Brad.”

“Secret for the person getting the gifts. Why the hell does it matter if you tell me? I know you don’t have me.” Poke had built in a mechanism that prevented repeats.

Nate sighed and looked conflicted, which meant Brad had landed his argument.

“Who’s yours?”

Brad rolled his eyes, but he was close enough to getting what he wanted that he’d play along. “Manimal, and I don’t know what to get him, or care to try.”

Nate’s face was contemplative. “Yeah he’s a tough one.” Brad waited and Nate sighed.

“I do have ideas for mine.”

“Fick.”

“It’s Ray.”

Lucky bastard. His face must have reflected that sentiment because Nate’s sigh was far more exasperated than any of Brad’s words had warranted.

In all the three years they’d done it, Brad had never gotten Ray’s name, even though he already had the perfect thing. This stupid gift exchange was the only way he’d be able to give it to him.

“I want you to note that I know there’s a reason you’re upset, but I’m not asking about it,” Nate said.

“You’re a true friend.”

“Okay fine, switch with me,” Nate said, like this was Brad’s idea and he’d been begging.

In reality, he barely had to make an effort to get this to turn out in his favor. He hadn’t thought about switching, but he’d been working out how to get Ray the present through Nate.

“I don’t think that’s allowed,” he said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Poke said we aren’t supposed to do that, and he’ll throw a bitch fit if he finds out.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “No one’s going to find out, and no one else will care.”

Brad turned the thought over in his head and thought through how it could turn out. He could deal with Poke.

“Okay.”

***

The thing was that Brad had meant to give this to Ray years ago. The first Christmas the old platoon was able to spend together. But then people were assholes, the Secret Santa system was created, and it suddenly didn’t feel like a good idea for Brad to gift it to Ray after it was established.

DADT wasn’t around, it couldn’t touch him if it was, but Brad didn’t feel like everyone in Bravo needed to know that he sometimes liked dick. Giving Ray a present when he was only supposed to have a gift for the name he’d drawn seemed too obvious.

Brad had seen the record player in a storefront window when he was in Virginia, and something about it had instantly made him think of his former-RTO.

It was just this side of looking like an antique. The simple brown casing that covered the more delicate inner workings felt on the nose the moment he thought about it in relation to Ray, but it wouldn't leave his head. He knew Ray was a secret snob about things like old music, so he knew there was a record collection somewhere.

And of course, music always reminded him of Ray.

He'd bought it two days later, and he'd felt stupid for it ever since. He needed to get rid of it.

Brad looked at the slip of paper with Ray’s name on it.

Only a few more weeks.

***

The record player was sitting heavy on his lap, wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper.

A weird mix of nerves twisted in his stomach and his skin felt hot and tight. Getting this crush out of his system would really be for the best.

"No seriously, thank fuck for the Marines or I wouldn't have gotten through finals week. Woulda gotten fucked like everyone else,” Ray said.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Chaffin asked. “Did you shoot your professors or something?”

“No, you fucking psychopath,” Ray said. And the way he looked at Chaffin reminded Brad how he'd never liked him. “I'm talking about the experience in going days without sleeping that I cultivated.”

Of course the dynamic outside a warzone was different, but Brad was always thrown by just how dramatic it was. It was almost impossible to believe they'd all torn through the desert together.

Poke came back into the room with his younger daughter on his hip. For all his tough talk, domesticity suited him well. Brad noticed how some of his edges had smoothed out and the way his restlessness had settled.

“Hey, you assholes better come eat some of Gina's food before she chews all our asses. Then we can get all of this out of the way.”

“Hell yeah. Let's go, Colbert,” Ray said, jabbing him with an elbow at the same time.

Ever since he'd gone back to college Ray especially was different. He still talked like trailer trash that had literally been pulled out of a Dumpster, but he was miles ahead people like Chaffin and Manimal.

He sounded like a person.

And that was what had turned the spark of attraction into an honest feeling that Brad could be more with him.

Honest feelings. More feelings than Brad was comfortable investing in a person.

But he'd still let it happen, and that was what he was trying to purge. As soon as he got rid of the record player Brad could see him as a friend again.

The food was laid out like a buffet and Brad grabbed them plates. They fell into a rhythm where Brad used his height to reach for food and Ray maneuvered them through the press of the old Bravo platoon.

When they made it out of the crowd, Ray was grinning and they had the best of everything.

“I'm not going to lie, I might have done some recon on the food situation before we were let in there,” Ray said.

“As if I haven't been hearing about the menu for weeks,” Brad said. “I had a mission going in there and I executed it.”

“Well kudos to you,” Ray laughed. “You're doing better than all of the people in charge of the U.S. military.”

“So how did finals week go?” Brad asked. “You're going to be a senior right?”

Ray lit up like a damn chemlight and started detailing his last week of the semester, all the papers he wrote, the tests he had to take and how he thought he'd done on all of them. And Brad was genuinely interested.

The dynamic of the group may have changed, but he and Ray felt the same. Like they'd changed in ways that still allowed them to fit together.

***

After everyone had eaten and Poke had broken out the alcohol, it was finally time for Brad to get rid of his red box.

Ray peeled off to retrieve the gift he’d brought and Nate wandered over with a small gold-wrapped box in hand.

“So what did you end up getting him?” Brad asked.

“It was harder than I expected, but I'm proud of it,” Nate replied. He had a smug smile on his face.

It was kind of impressive, and Brad didn’t know how Nate had found a gym that was built solely around weightlifting, or that there could be different levels to a place like that.

“How do you think yours is going to go?”

Brad eyed Ray across the room. He had a silver gift bag hanging by his wrist and he was talking to Walt. They’d fit like puzzle pieces all night and Brad could only hope he could get back on steady ground so he could keep it.

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

And then it was a flurry of activity and men bustling around the room to find their pairs and do the exchange. Brad lost track of Ray, and of Nate, but his month-long impatience had settled because he knew he’d be rid of the box eventually.

Ray raised his eyebrow as Brad approached. They were one of the last pairs, so interest in them from the others was low.

“Thank God, I was beginning to think I’d been left out of the rotation,” Ray said, grinning as he took Brad’s present.

“When I saw it, I thought of you and couldn't stop thinking about it until I bought it,” Brad said while Ray attacked the wrapping paper.

Ray gasped when the paper was gone and he was just holding the box. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He was grinning again, wide and amazed.

“This is seriously the coolest thing I could have asked for. I knew you gave a shit, you dick.” He punched Brad lightly on the shoulder.

“Sure, something like that,” Brad scoffed. He couldn't ignore the wave of relief that crashed over his head when it was obvious Ray liked the gift. Or the way the nerves twisted into a new shape.

Being right was really nice, even if it came with a flush that was all too obvious on his skin.

“To make it real for a second, I'm a little bummed I didn't get your name. I had a great idea,” Ray said, taking his eyes off of the record player for a moment.

“You could still give it to me,” Brad said, raising an eyebrow. He noted the potential hypocrisy, but this was different. There was no way it could mean the same thing Brad’s gift did.

“Not according to all our cheap-ass friends I can’t,” Ray said. There was color in his cheeks and he was suddenly avoiding direct eye contact.

And that was a surprise that set his heart racing. Brad had to do some recon, but he had a suspicion.

“You could always switch names with someone else,” he said casually.

“There’s an idea,” Ray said, studying the opening of the record player’s box. It was closed with tape and he started picking at it.

“Well that’s what I did this year.”

Ray’s eyes snapped to his and his mouth was hanging open. Brad watched as he connected all of the dots in real time and his eyes grew even bigger. He was a little surprised he hadn’t dropped his gift. Distantly, he felt kind of sick because Ray somehow hadn’t said anything yet.

“You didn’t buy this for me for Christmas,” Ray said. Brad shook his head. “But you really wanted to give it to me, to the point that you cheated at Secret Santa.”

“Like I told Nate, the secret doesn’t apply to the other people playing as long as they aren’t the person you’re meant to give to.”

“You’re playing fast and loose with the rules there,” Ray said. Then he shook his head sharply and his eyes were wider in their disbelief. “When did you buy this?”

“When I was stationed in Virginia.”

Ray did the math, then he was staring at Brad again. “You fucking asshole.”

And that was all the warning Brad got before Ray grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down to meet his lips.

Luckily, if they needed the excuse, Brad had spotted mistletoe here before. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he was getting over his crush anytime soon.


End file.
